


The Stanford Years

by phantisma



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Brainwashing, Dubious Consent, M/M, Prostitution, Rape/Non-con References, Sex Toys, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-30
Updated: 2011-12-30
Packaged: 2017-12-07 00:43:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sam gets a full ride scholarship to Stanford, he thinks all of his dreams are within reach, even if it means leaving his father and Dean on less than positive terms.  They'll come around eventually.  He sets off alone for California and freedom, but what he finds is anything but...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The air was crisp and cool as he stepped off the bus and onto the campus where he was going to spend the next four years of his life, trying to find his excitement under the layers of dread and hurt from his last exchange with his father.

_”If you walk out that door, Sam, don’t bother coming back.”_

Sam shifted the weight of his bag to his other shoulder and inhaled, putting his father out of his mind. This was Sam’s time, his place. He would find his way out of the fucked up world his brother and father lived in and make his way in the world where vampires and werewolves and ghosts were just scary stories.

And it all started here.

At Stanford.

When he’d first gotten the letter he was sure it had to be a mistake. His SAT scores were decent enough, but he was lacking in a lot of other areas he knew schools like Stanford looked for. His extracurricular activities were limited, family involvement was nil.

But then his guidance counselor had sent in a glowing letter, talking about how Sam could rise above the adversity of his past, the unfortunate home situation, and somehow Sam had not only gotten accepted, but he had been given a full scholarship; tuition, books, room and board.

It was his way out, even if his father couldn’t understand.

Not that Dean had been a lot better.

Sam surveyed the area, and decided his best bet was to follow the throngs of other lost looking people headed for what he assumed to be the administration building.

Dean had at least given him a ride to the bus station. They hadn’t said much in the way of goodbye. Dean had told him to watch his back, to be safe and he’d pulled away on the strains of Zeppelin blaring out the windows of the Impala.

He neared the building, smiling as he joined a line that was headed inside.

“Attention Freshman! Please make sure you are in the right place. Parking passes and administrative fees, you need to go to the second floor Bursar’s office. If you need to make changes or additions to your class schedule, you need to go to the third floor. Room assignments, first floor, end of the hall for the housing office.”

The young man yelling the information glanced at Sam and smiled. “Hello, gorgeous, what’s your name?”

Sam rolled his eyes with a chuckle. “I’m Sam.”

“And what brings you here today, Sam?”

He pulled his information from his jacket pocket. “I’m kind of behind the times, I guess. I need to find out what to do first.”

“Let me see what you’ve got.” He took Sam’s papers and squinted at them, then smiled. “Well, aren’t you the lucky one. I tell you what, what this tells me is that you need to come with me.” He turned back toward the building where a woman was repeating the information he’d just yelled out. “I’ve got a West scholarship, you got this?” She nodded.

He smiled at Sam and gestured toward the building. “Come on. Dean West likes to handle his students himself. Special treatment all the way.”

“Dean West?” Sam asked, following him into the building and past the line of students to an elevator.

“He’s the man responsible for you being here.” The elevator doors closed and Sam was handed back his papers. “I’m Brady, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Brady grinned at him and Sam got the distinct impression that there was something a bit predatory to the expression. The elevator opened to a posh looking lobby. The secretary looked Sam over before her eyes went to Brady. “He’s expecting two more.”

“I’ll keep an eye out.” Brady replied. “Sam, this is Vanessa. She will escort you the rest of the way.”

Sam offered a smile, and his hand. “Thank you. I’ll, um, see you around.”

Brady’s answering smile was bigger. “Oh, you can count on it, Sam. You can count on it.”

He disappeared back into the elevator and Vanessa held out her hand. “May I see the paperwork we sent you?”

Sam handed over the packet of papers, looking around the office while she went through them. “Very good, Mr. Winchester. Please wait right here. I will see if he’s ready to see you.”

He hadn’t expected special treatment, and really, all he wanted was to get his classes and books and room so he could settle in. He paced the lobby area, eyeing the expensive looking art. It made him feel very out of place in his worn out jeans that hung slack on his hips, held up by an even more worn out belt, and the t-shirt that was a little too snug in the shoulders.

“Dean West is ready for you.”

Sam turned to find Vanessa smiling at him and holding a door open to the inner office. “Thank you,” he murmured as he ducked past her into an office that made the lobby pale in comparison. The floor was covered in lush carpeting, the walls paneled in dark wood.

A man in his fifties stood, smiling broadly and coming from behind the desk. “Welcome to Stanford, Mr. Winchester.”

Sam shook his hand. “Sam, please.”

“Good, good. Have a seat, Sam, we have a few things to talk about before we start you on your way.”

Sam put his bag on the floor and sat a little stiffly, watching as Vanessa returned, setting a tray on the desk.

“Thank you Vanessa. Are you hungry, Sam? I took the liberty of ordering up some lunch.”

It was simple as far as food went, sandwiches and bottled water, but it was better looking than anything he’d had since leaving his brother. “Thank you.” He took a sandwich and a bottle of water and sat back in his chair.

“Now, as I recall, you’re coming to us from…Arizona, is that right?”

“Most recently, yes.” Sam agreed, shifting a little uncomfortably. “We moved around a lot.”

“So I noticed in your transcripts. Amazing that you managed to keep your grades so high.”

“I worked hard.” Sam said, lifting the water to sip at it.

The Dean smiled at him. “And it shows. Now I know it’s no surprise to you that you are not exactly a mainstream Stanford student. I mean, you have the grades, and your SAT scores are impressive, but your high school career is not as robust as most incoming freshman.” He was paging through a folder. “But I don’t look for mainstream. I keep my eye on students with promise, no matter what their situation. It is those individuals that I offer my scholarships to. The ones who would otherwise have nowhere to go.”

“I promise I will work hard, Dean West.”

“Oh, I’m not worried about that, Son.” He stood, adjusting his jacket. “You eat up, I will be right back. I need to check on your room.”

Sam swallowed down the rest of the sandwich and washed it down with the bottle of water. The door opened as he put the empty bottle back on the tray. Dean West offered him a smile. “It won’t be long now, Sam. We’ll get you started in just a few minutes.”

He wanted to ask why they couldn’t start now, but something was suddenly not right. His tongue felt thick and his ears were buzzing. He couldn’t focus. Dean West leaned in, his face swimming in Sam’s vision. “It’s so much better if you don’t fight, Sam.”

 

 

 

Cold.

It was the first thing to filter in past the noise in his head. He wasn’t sure why he was cold, or even where he was or much of anything past cold and noise that seemed to be completely inside his head. Like the roar from that time his father had given him something to make him sleep, but he’d woken up before they wore off.

Drugs. Someone had drugged him.

Who? The last thing he remembered was…what was the last thing he remembered? There was the fight, the bus…Brady. There was someone named Brady.

His head hurt too much to keep fighting for more. He lifted his head…except his head didn’t move.

Sam froze in place, forcing himself to focus. He opened his eyes, but he was surrounded by darkness…blindfold…or something because he couldn't feel a blindfold against his skin. He was bound. He could feel something tight around his ankles, his knees, his wrists…and his neck. He pushed against them slowly, then with increasing amounts of panic fueling him, until he was thrashing and breathless and still nothing was budging.

When he had stilled, he could sense someone else in the space. He couldn't hear anyone, but he knew someone was there.

“Hello?” His voice was muffled. Like he was wearing earmuffs.

A hand touched him, low on his back. His bare back. The only thing between him and that unknown hand was what felt like a rubber glove.

He was naked, he realized. Naked and kneeling, with his knees and ankles bound to the surface under him, his hands bound behind his back, his ass up in the air. His face was pressed to the cool surface, held there by…something thick around his neck that also seemed to be attached to the surface under him.

That hand moved slowly, down over his skin, over his naked ass. He tried to pull away but there was no where to go. It slipped down his ass crack, a finger dipping between his cheeks, so slowly down to his balls.

It paused there, slowly caressing over his balls before moving on to circle his cock, stroking down the length of it as Sam started to curse. "Stop. Fuck, just…who are you? What do you want?"

He was slapped hard on the ass, hard enough to stop his words and leave a sizeable area of stinging skin on his cheek. He shivered as the hand started again, this time rubbing over the stinging skin before continuing its journey south. It reached the end of his dick before Sam couldn't hold still anymore, jerking as much as his bonds would allow and screaming.

Again, he was slapped hard, this time on the other cheek, and not just once. Two hard slaps. And again, the hand went back to the beginning, this time rubbing over both areas of skin that had been punished.

The message was clear, even though nothing was said. He was to be still and let this disembodied hand feel him up, or he would be punished. He focused on his breathing, just about the only thing he had control of at that moment.

The hand caressed over his cock and balls, his thighs…then back up to his ass, over the hot skin. It was joined by a second hand, also encased in a glove, moving his cheeks apart, holding them open so that his ass hole was exposed.

Sam shook his head. "No."

A finger brushed over his hole, and he realized that there had to be two people in the room with him, because his cheeks were still being held apart.

"No. Please. Stop." Sam bit off the words, fear warring with anger and self preservation.

The slap that came this time was no hand. It was harder, off to the side of his left cheek. Sam bit down on the yell that wanted to escape him, tears burning in the corner of his eyes as that finger smeared something cold and slick over his hole, then pressed slowly in.

This couldn't be real. He was having a nightmare brought on by the stress. That's all it was. He was going to wake up any minute now.

That gloved finger was inside him, feeling around, pulling on the sides of his hole. It slipped out and Sam exhaled in relief.

His relief was short lived though, replaced by more fear as the finger returned, bringing a second one along. Both pushed into him on more of the cold slippery stuff, filling him, pressing down, feeling his insides.

He couldn't stop himself from begging them to stop, his mouth moving even as the paddle struck his skin. Tears burned on his face as a third finger joined the first two and he was half sure they were trying to tear him apart.

He yelled as a third finger violated him, unable to stop even as he was hit over and over. Finally the fingers withdrew and his screaming stuttered to a stop, and all he could hear was his own muffled panting.

Those hands still held his cheeks open, but he could feel movement. Then something was touching him, pressing into his hole. No. No! Sam screamed and thrashed, but there was no escaping the invasion. It was slow and insistent and thick and long and so much worse than fingers.

It seemed to take forever, that first push into him, and it was too much, too thick, too long, it wasn't going to fit….until it did…just…fill him up…and it hurt like nothing he'd ever known…then a long slow pull out. The hands that had been spreading him open moved to his hips, holding him as that invading cock pushed into him again. Sam swallowed and tried to keep from screaming. He could survive this. He would be okay. He just had to keep it together.

He closed his eyes behind the blindfold, tried to remember what had happened, retracing his steps in his brain, anything to keep himself from thinking about what was happening right that moment.

The cock moving inside him was speeding up and Sam was vaguely aware of grunting, muffled and distant…and he was alarmed to realize that it was coming from him, pure guttural reaction to what was being done to him.

His ass was stretched and hurting and then it was suddenly worse as he was filled with unexpected heat and the sticky evidence of sex. The cock pulled out, dragging long strings of semen with it that fell messy against Sam's skin.

It was over. He swallowed and tried to calm his breathing.

Only, it wasn't over. Someone else was touching him, pushing into him.

"No."

Music filled his ears, something instrumental and loud. It effectively blocked out what little sound he'd been getting. It wasn't just music though. There were voices. Words. He couldn't make them out. They lingered just under the music.

Lights flickered. Images filled the space around his eyes, played out on tiny screens…glasses of some kind. The pictures moved too fast to really follow, keeping pace with the music and some part of his brain knew what this was…there were other sounds, sex sounds…pleasure…orgasm all mixed into the music and images.

He couldn't keep up, could barely hold on while they fucked him over and over…until the images died out and he was allowed to slip into the dark.

 

 

He woke slowly from some drugged out sleep, rolling over on what felt like a very thin mattress on the floor before he managed to get his eyes open. He wasn't wrong.

The room was small, little more than the mattress on the floor. White walls were close enough to touch on the sides, with barely enough length to lay down. He sat up slowly, his body registering aches and pains he didn't fully understand.

He rubbed at his head, trying to think through the fog of drugs in his system. "Sam." He startled himself a little with the sound of his voice…but that was his name, he was pretty sure.  
The wall to his right lit up, an image projected onto it from somewhere. Music filled the room, and on the wall he could see himself…he was pretty sure that was him…kneeling, hands bound, eyes covered by some sort of…glasses or plastic blindfold. He was naked and the man approaching was too.

On the wall, his mouth opened without protest and the man standing over him put the cock hardening in his hand into Sam's mouth. Noises joined the music then, the sounds of slurping and sucking as the Sam on the wall worked the cock in his mouth like he was a whore.

Voices murmured and the man pulled his cock out of Sam's mouth and pushed Sam's face to the floor. Stepping behind him, he guided his cock to Sam's ass, pushing in slowly. Sam could hear himself grunting in rhythm with the cock fucking him, over the music and murmuring voices he couldn't quite make out.

The image faded, to be replaced by another, this time with Sam on all fours, being fucked by two men. The visor was gone as well, and Sam's eyes were focused on the man whose cock he was sucking.

Sam shook his head. It felt wrong…something was wrong with those images, with what they made him feel. He was fighting a strong desire to get on his knees, his cock was hard.

The door opened, and Sam wasn't sure if he should be kneeling and presenting himself or covering his nakedness. He found himself kneeling on the mattress, his hands covering, or trying to cover, his cock.

"Well, that's an improvement," the man said, holding a tray out of Sam's line of sight. "The Dean will be pleased."

Something in the word made him want to recoil, though it was also somehow comforting. Which was confusing. "Mouth."

Without hesitation, Sam's mouth opened. The man dumped pills into his mouth, then water. "Swallow."

Sam did, grimacing around the pills as they went down. "Stand."

Sam stood, hands still hiding his cock. The man looked him over, then nodded. "Follow me."

There was a brief thought of disobedience, but it vanished as the door opened and Sam followed the man out of the small room and into a long, white hall. They walked to the end of the hall and through a set of double doors into what looked like a medical exam room.

"Sit." He was pointed to an exam bed and Sam sat.

There was something familiar in the room, he'd been there before, but he couldn't remember exactly when. He chewed on his lip as he thought about it. Memories of various medical moments flashed through his head, a broken arm, a concussion…but they were just flashes. He shook his head.

A man in a white coat approached with the same man who had brought Sam there. "Good morning Sam. Do you remember who I am?"

"Dr. Olive?" Sam said, the name popping into his head.

The doctor nodded. "Very good." He opened a chart and jotted something down. "Tell me how you feel."

"A little sore, but okay."

"You were worked pretty hard the last few days, the soreness will fade." The doctor handed the chart to the other man and stepped in close, his hands lifting to Sam's head, feeling around his neck, before lifting his stethoscope.

He listened to Sam's heart and lungs, nodding as he took the chart back. "Looks good. We already dialed back his dosage. His memory seems to be right where we want it. How's his obedience?"

"Slightly hesitant, but no worse than any of the others."

Dr. Olive scribbled more notes onto the chart. "Go ahead and test him. It's a little early, but he seems to be ready. Dr. West will be pleased if we get him working quickly, especially since we lost Damien."

It occurred to Sam that he should be worried about his memory, since he didn't seem to actually be able to remember anything, unless asked a question, but he was ordered up and he obeyed, following the same man back out into the hall and down to the opposite end.

They entered a door and stopped just inside it. There were six narrow beds lining the room on one side, each of them held a naked man, strapped down and blindfolded. Sam looked to the man beside him.

"Your job is to get three of them hard, take their cock in your ass, and make them come. Any three of them. You have an hour." The man walked through the room and to a door at the other end.

Sam stared at the men, his stomach tight. His palms were sweaty. He took a hesitant step toward the nearest bed. This wasn't right. He licked his lips and looked at the man on the bed. He was tied down, his eyes covered. His cock lay limp against his hip.

"Okay." Sam murmured. He'd done this before. He didn't actually remember doing it, but somehow he knew he had. He got close to the bed and took a deep breath. He reached out with one hand, ghosting it over the man's cock. Slowly, he touched it, his fingers circling around its soft length and lifting it.

The man moaned and his cock hardened some. Sam's mind filled with images, sensations and he found himself leaning forward, licking at the tip of his cock. It flooded him then. He knew how to suck just the tip while his hand moved up and down the shaft to get him fully hard. He knew how to open the back of his throat and take the cock as deep into his mouth as he could.

He knew he'd find a bottle of lube hanging from the footboard. He grabbed it and dumped some into his hand, moving back to the dick that was now hard and standing up. He smeared lube over it, then reached behind him to rub over his opening, pushing two fingers inside himself before moving so that he could put one knee on the bed beside the man, swinging his other leg over so that he was straddling the man's stomach.

Sam reached behind him for the slick cock, holding it in place so he could ease down over it. The man was moaning again, his head turning. The tip of his cock breached Sam and he exhaled before pressing back and down. It seemed to take forever, working that cock up inside him. Sam sat panting with it fully in him for a second.

He closed his eyes, then opened them quickly when a face filled his head. Dean.

The name popped to go with the face. Sam felt himself frowning. Dean wouldn't approve. He shook his head to clear it. He focused his attention on the task at hand. The man under him was shifting, trying to get him to move. Sam put a hand on his chest, in part to calm him, in part to offer Sam some leverage as he lifted up.

All thoughts beyond getting this man to come left his head as he moved, lower lip caught in his teeth. The man was talking, sounds and pleading falling from his lip. Sam increased his pace and was nearly taken by surprise when the cock inside him exploded.

He was breathing heavy as he got up and moved to the next bed. Like the first man, this one was bound to the bed, eyes covered. His cock was also limp against his skin, though even limp Sam could see it was bigger. His eyes skipped to the next bed, and the next. All the men seemed to get progressively bigger.

He reached for the man, hand going to his cock. It hardened almost without any work on Sam's part, filling his hand. Sam straddled him and lowered himself onto that cock, adjusting as it filled him. This man was more vocal and his hips picked up Sam's rhythm, thrusting up to meet every push downward. His come was hot and thick and spilled out of Sam as he rose.

One more.

He was sweating as he lowered himself onto the third, sweating and sticky with come. His sweat only increased as he worked the last one, who seemed nearly resistant to the idea. Eventually though, Sam could feel him fighting the orgasm and he moved faster, finally getting the reward of the man's come inside him.

Sam got up, wiping his face and looking around him. Come dripped from him as he walked to the door where his handler had gone. He opened it, and stepped into a small room.

"Very good, Slave. You have passed your first test. In the next room you may shower. When you are done showering, exit through the blue door. There will be food before your next test."

As if it needed the cue, Sam's stomach rumbled. The door ahead of him opened and Sam found himself in a shower room. The walls and floors were tiled, shower heads stuck out of the walls at intervals and drains dotted the floors. There were no towels or benches or anything aside from the showers.

One of the shower heads came on and Sam moved into its spray, relishing the heat of the water as it cascaded over him, slicking away the sweat and come from his skin. The water turned off and Sam stood over the drain, dripping. He squeezed water from his hair and turned, looking around him for the blue door.

It was to his left. When he wasn’t dripping any more, Sam went to the door and opened it, emerging into a small room with a small table set with a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of water. It wasn’t a lot of food, but his stomach was growling at him again, letting him know it didn’t care how much there was, it wanted whatever there was.

He sat on the chair and ate, his eyes darting around him. There was nothing to look at, nothing to distract him from the task of eating. It didn’t take him long to finish the oatmeal and drink the water.

He wasn’t sure what to do then. He went back to the door he’d come through, but it was red. He paced the room. He went to the only other door, but it was white. He wasn’t supposed to go through the white door unless someone was with him. He walked the length of the room several times, then sat for a while.

After what seemed like a long time, the white door at the other end of the room opened. Sam stood. His handler appeared, looking Sam over with a smile. “Improvement. Good. Follow me.”

Sam wasn’t sure what he’d improved or how, but he followed. They walked down a hallway and into a room with three blue doors. “In each of these rooms there are test situations. You will walk into each of these rooms, do what is required of you, and emerge.” The man pointed to a clock on the wall. “That clock will start when I leave. It will stop when you open and close one of these doors. It will restart when you open and close the same door. You have one hour on that clock. Do you understand?”

Sam nodded. “Yes, sir.”

The handler left and Sam watched the clock start moving. He had no idea what waited beyond those doors. He scanned them, finally opting for the one on the left. He opened it and stepped inside a room that had little furniture and walls painted a dark grey.

Two men were waiting for him. Sam closed the door and took a step toward them.

“Look, Dave, we got us a slave.”

“It’s about time, slave. You best get on over here, my cock needs some attention.”

Sam took a step toward the blond one, despite a vague urge to run back through that door. His mind sorted through impulses, landing on obedience and a need to please these men.

The dark haired one reached for him first, hand gripping Sam’s hair and dragging him in, his lips covering Sam’s, his tongue plunging into Sam’s mouth while the other one crowded in behind, his hands stroking over Sam’s naked skin.

The kiss ended with a shove downward, pushing Sam to his knees. The hand in his hair held him while the other loosened the man’s belt, letting his cock out. He shoved forward, into Sam’s mouth. The blond moved in closer and after Sam had been pulled up and down the first cock a few times, the blond pulled him to his cock, shoving in just as quickly.

He had to struggle to keep up, pulled back and forth between them, drooling around them, gagging when they shoved in too far. He tried harder, relaxing his throat, focusing on taking what they were giving him.

"That's it fucking slut, take my cock in that filthy mouth of yours."

The blond one pulled away and the dark haired one shoved his cock in deep, holding Sam's head until he started to gag. Sam almost didn't feel the blond get into position behind him, until he felt a finger penetrate his ass. "I'm gonna fuck this ass, slave."

He was pulled on, his hips lifted until he could get his knees under him more solidly, but his attention was torn between what the blond was doing behind him and the cock in his mouth that was moving in and out now. Sam adjusted himself, spreading his knees a little more, bracing his hands on the thighs of the man using his mouth.

"Oh, yeah Dave, I think he likes it." The blond one shoved into him and Sam grunted around the cock in his mouth.

The dark one tugged on his hair, making him look up. "Is that right, slave? You like our dicks?" He pulled Sam back enough that his cock fell out of Sam's mouth.

"Yes, sir." Sam responded without thinking, as if the words were a memorized answer to the question.

"Are you a cock slut?"

"Yes, sir." Sam answered.

The dark haired one slapped his dick against Sam's face until he was coming, using his cock to smear the come over Sam's cheeks before feeding his cock back into Sam's mouth.

Sam licked it clean while the blond one fucked him from behind. His thrusts were deep and hard and picking up pace. Sam squeezed ass muscles around him, panting into the floor once the dark haired guy dropped him.

"This is one fine ass, slave."

"Thank you sir." Sam answered.

The blond slapped him, shoved in deep and came. He pushed Sam to the floor as he got up, leaving him there panting. When Sam finally lifted his head, he was alone in the room.

He pulled himself up and exited back into the room with the three blue doors. A bucket of steaming water and a towel and washcloth was waiting for him. He washed the come from his face, then his ass, then washed off the sweat from the rest of him and toweled dry.

Two doors remained. He looked at the clock, then the doors. He chose the middle one, opening the door with a slight hesitation.

The room was much different, warm and softly scented, with a bed draped in blankets and piled with pillows. The walls were a rich green and the floor was carpeted in a softer green.

“Hello.” He turned toward the voice, just as a woman in a shimmering silk negligee slipped up to him, her smile soft, her hands softer as they skimmed over him. Her lips touched his, her hand circling his cock. “I’ve been waiting for you.” Her hand moved over him and his cock hardened easily, his lips falling open to her questing tongue.

“I’m here now.” Sam murmured, again without thought, the words a programmed response.

She turned him and walked him back toward the bed, pushing him down and crawling up his body. She grinned up at him as she reached his groin, her tongue dragging over the tip of his cock. Sam gasped and she giggled.

Her whole mouth closed over his cock and sucked him in, her tongue dancing along the underside before she slid back up to the tip. “Been thinking about this all day.” His hands reached to steady her, holding her hips as she rose up and lifted a knee up over his leg, then the other, straddling him.

Her hand held his cock as she rose over him, rubbing the tip of it through her wet slit before she guided it to her opening and pushed down onto it. She took his full length in one long slide, rocking a little as her ass touched his thighs.

She rose up again slowly, slipping her negligee up over her body, exposing her breasts. She dropped the gown and pushed down on him, taking him fully again. His hands slipped inward, his thumbs massaging in slow circles as they found their way to her clit, eliciting a gasp.

She rocked against his thumbs, her breathing tightening, her hands squeezing her breasts until she came, her juices running between them. She leaned in, licking at his nipples and nipping at his lips. Sam caressed his way to her hips, holding her and turning her so that she was under him and he could take control of the pacing.

He pulled out and shoved in hard once, then made shallow thrusts, bending her knees and opening her legs a little to make room for him. He kissed over her breasts, licking at the hard nipples, sucking them between his lips one at a time while he pushed into her.

“Harder,” she whispered at him, her legs circling around him. “Faster.”

He grinned and obliged, his hips snapping faster and faster until she was coming again, tightening around his cock until he too was coming. He kept moving inside her until his cock was softening, then slipped out, licking and kissing his way down her body, holding her legs apart as he licked through her wetness.

She wriggled as he licked through her slit, tasting his own come mingled with hers, her hand grabbing at his hair as he found her clit and sucked at it. When he kept sucking at it, she moaned loudly, her legs closing around his head. He released it, only to lick at it twice, then suck at it again, earning a yell.

He slipped two fingers into her hole as he sucked and her legs started shaking as she came yet again, her back arching, her voice cracking. He released her clit, but kept fucking her with his fingers until she eased back down to the bed.

When Sam sat back, she smiled sleepily at him, beckoning him with one finger. He lay beside her, letting her draw him in to kiss softly. “I’m going to miss you.”

“Am I going somewhere?” Sam asked, not sure what she knew that he didn’t, or even if he’d been with her before.

She smiled and kissed him again. “On to better things, once you get through today.” She caressed over his chest, her eyes soft. “I have to let you go…and I have a class to get to.” She slid down the bed, grabbing her negligee as she went and slipping it on over her head as she stood. “Good luck.”

She walked away, through the red door in the back of the room. Sam stood and sighed, heading back to the blue door. In the main room, he once again cleaned himself up and dried himself off, glancing at the clock. He’d barely used fifteen minutes of the hour he was allotted, which made him wonder what was waiting for him behind the last door.

He took a deep breath and crossed to it, listening for a long moment, his hand on the handle of the door. It opened before he did more than touch it and Sam stepped into the room. The walls were a rich red, and Sam's heart raced as the door was shoved shut. He didn't get a look at who was in the room before he was grabbed by the hair and dragged deeper into the room.

He was shoved into some sort of stockade, head and hands held down as the crosspiece was lowered into place and locked so that he was held bent over. Hands moved his lower body, pulling his hips back and up, adjusting the stance of his feet. He couldn't see who was in the room with him, not that it mattered exactly.

He jumped when the first blow landed, a big hand against the flesh of his ass. The second made him yell. Suddenly someone was in front of him, grabbing his cheeks and squeezing. "No one gave you permission to make noise, slave."

"Please…" Sam squeezed his eyes shut as his head was pulled up harshly. He knew he wasn't supposed to talk. He knew, but he couldn't help it.

"I can shut you up."

His face was released and the man stalked away. All Sam could see of him was black leather on his legs. When he came back, he shoved a red rubber ball gag into Sam's mouth and strapped it tight around his head. He walked away again and when he came back, something that was not his hand slapped against Sam's ass. It was long and thin and stung like a son-of-a-bitch. It bit into the flesh of his cheeks, down his thighs, leaving welted skin and fire in its wake. Sam grunted around the gag, tears burning the corner of his eyes.

When the blow struck his balls, Sam screamed, lurching forward as much as he could, trapped in the stockade the way he was. It hit a second and a third time, until Sam was shaking, his face wet with tears.

The man chuckled, his hand reaching between Sam's legs and pulling on his cock. To Sam's surprise, it hardened, filling the big hand. He tugged down several times before pulling back. That hand rubbed over Sam's welted skin, over his ass and down his thighs, before coming back to spread Sam's cheeks open.

One finger pushed into him, no lube, nothing to ease its passing. Sam tensed, inhaling through his nose. The finger moved around inside him, then pulled out. The cane came down on his ass, making him jump. The man spit onto his hole, then shoved his finger in again. He repeated the pattern, pulling his finger out, then whacking the cane down, spitting and then two fingers.

That was apparently all the prep he was getting though, and Sam was grateful for the previous two scenes as a thick cock shoved into him. The man grunted as he fucked, hard and deep, the cane snapping down on Sam’s leg several times, then across his shoulder.

He pulled out as he came, spilling his come all over the hot skin of Sam’s ass, but that wasn’t the end of it. The cane snapped up against Sam’s hard cock, then that hand yanked down on it several times. Back and forth between the two until, to his shock, Sam was coming himself and the man laughed again.

Sam heard his boots on the floor, listened for him for a long time. He was nearly certain the man had left him locked in the stockade when the boots came back. Something cold and wet dripped onto his heated skin, over his hole. A second later something big was being pushed into him.

Too big.

Sam shook his head, rattling the stockade, yelling around the gag. It didn’t stop the intrusion. His ass stretched, pain radiating out from the huge dildo or plug being forced into him.

It moved slowly, in until no more of it would fit, then slowly outward before going back in. Sam squeezed his eyes shut, his hands in fists, panting around the ball in his mouth. The sound of a motor started and the dildo’s movements settled into a slow, deep, rhythmic thrusting.

In counterpoint, the cane came down on his hips, his ass and back, lightly at first, then harder, and back to light, until his entire back was on fire and he was starting to lose track of the individual blows. It blurred together and he drifted, maybe even passing out…because the next conscious thought was that it had gotten quiet.

Sam opened his eyes. The dildo was still inside him, but it wasn’t moving. He was alone in the room. He stretched his neck and the stockade lifted. He eased himself out of it, one hand going to his ass to pull the dildo out.

His back protested and his thighs were screaming their exhaustion. The skin on his back was warm and likely red, if not black and blue, the whole surface one aching mass. He couldn’t quite stand upright as his hands crawled up his body to release the gag.

He worked his jaw, rubbing along it as he moved to the door.

Once again there was fresh water and a towel awaiting him. He cleaned himself slowly, wincing as he let water flow over his raw hole. His shoulder cracked and his lower back pinched as he washed over his ass. He was shaking by the time he was done.

Sam’s steps toward the blue door were hesitant, but he reached it before his hour had slipped away. His handler was waiting for him in the next room.

“Very good. Follow me.”

Once again back into the hallway, and into the medical room again.

“Damn.” Sam looked up as the doctor turned him. “Okay, lay down, on your stomach.”

“He passed out,” the handler said.

“I’m not surprised,” the doctor replied. There was a prick in Sam’s arm and something cold pushed into his skin. “I’m sedating him so I can clean this up. It will be a few days before he’s ready.”

“He passed his trial, so as soon as he’s ready he can go to the dorm.”

Sam wasn’t sure what dorm he meant, and he couldn’t figure it out as the drug worked its way into him and pulled him into the dark.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Sam gets a full ride scholarship to Stanford, he thinks all of his dreams are within reach, even if it means leaving his father and Dean on less than positive terms. They'll come around eventually. He sets off alone for California and freedom, but what he finds is anything but...

“Good morning, Sam.” 

Sam smiled as he nodded to the doctor. “I’ll take your word for it.” 

There was very little sense of time with no windows and no set hours for working. It made him reliant on his handler, Doug to know when it was time to eat or shower or sleep. Or, in this case, visit the doctor.

“How are you feeling today, Sam?”

“Better, thanks.” He sat easily on the exam table. “Nothing hurts, even when I’m working Gray.”

The doctor nodded and moved behind him, fingers walking over the healing marks from his last Red job. “This looks much better.” He came back to the front of Sam and bent to look at the knee that had gotten pretty beat up. “Any residual pain?”

“No, it’s good too.”

The doctor smiled and made notes in Sam’s chart. “In that case, I can release you to full duty again.”

Sam did his best to keep the emotional response off his face, but he was sure it showed.

“You’ve had a longer break than most from Red jobs, Sam, seeing as you had two go so badly in a row.”

Sam made a face. “I know.” 

“You’re all set here. I’ll notify the Dean.”

Sam nodded and slipped off the table, moving back to the blue door. Doug met him in the hall. “Time to eat Sam, then you have a sleep period. I’ll come get you when it’s time to work.” 

Sam headed down the hall, through the open door into the cafeteria, where the walls were painted a soft yellow. He raised a hand in greeting at Jessica, a pretty blonde who slept in the bunk beside his in the dorm, before crossing to pick up his tray.

“So, I heard a rumor.” Jessica said as Sam took a seat at the table beside him.

“You and your gossip.” Sam shook his head and turned his attention to his food.

She rolled her eyes, but it didn’t stop her from leaning in and lowering her voice. “I heard that Tammy remembered something. From before.”

Sam squinted at her, then glanced around them to make sure no one was listening. “Like what?”

Jessica shrugged. “No one’s seen her since.”

He had known someone who remembered stuff from before he had come to be here. He had spoken of an amusement park and cotton candy, of a little sister…and then he had disappeared. Someone said he’d been “let go” of the program, but Sam wasn’t sure what that meant. 

He ate his meal quickly. “I’ve got to sleep.” He stood and took his tray to the counter before heading toward the dorm. Sometimes, when he was asleep, he had memories…images mostly…of places, fire, a big man who made him feel safe, but it was all vague and random. He never told anyone though. 

He didn’t want to be dropped from the program. He liked it here. Most of the time. He was clearly good at it too, judging by his popularity. He got more requests than the others in his dorm. Particularly for the gray and red room jobs. 

He laid down on his bunk and closed his eyes, hoping for a good rest with no dreams so that he would be prepared for his job.

 

“Do you know why you are here, Sam?”

Sam shook his head and tried to focus on standing still and straight, hands behind his back, eyes forward. “No, sir.”

The man pacing around him was the Dean. He was in charge of everything. He was the man who controlled Sam’s life. “You seem nervous. Are you nervous, Sam?”

“Yes, sir.” Sam responded, swallowing. 

“Why?”

Sam shifted a little on his feet. “I…I don’t want to be punished, sir.”

That earned him a small chuckle and the Dean stopped pacing, standing in front of Sam and looking over his naked body. “And why would you think that I was going to punish you? Have you done anything wrong?”

“Not that I am aware of, Sir.”

“Then relax.” The Dean ran a hand down Sam’s chest and smiled. “On the contrary, you’re here because I am most pleased with your performance.” He moved away, back to the desk in the room. “There has been a request for you. I am thinking that I will grant the request, even though we do not usually allow freshmen off campus.”

“Off campus, Sir?” Sam dared a look at the Dean, who was busy looking at the file on his desk.

“Yes, you see, one of our alumni is having a big party and he wishes to provide entertainment for his guests. He has requested you.” The Dean put the file down and looked up at Sam. "Now, normally, I would not even consider sending a Freshman out there, however, you have exceeded expectations in all of your classes and your skills are impressive."

"Thank you, Sir." Sam felt himself flush a little, the confused pride at compliments for doing what he'd been trained to do and a nagging idea in the back of his head that it was wrong leaving him a little off balance.

"This will be a test for you Sam. Don't let me down."

"No, Sir. I won't."

"Good. Doug will explain everything to you. You may go."

Sam nodded. "Thank you, Sir." He withdrew back toward the door he came in. Doug was waiting for him in the hallway. 

"Follow." 

Not that Sam needed the instruction. He followed Doug down a long white corridor, and into a room Sam had never been in before. A blond woman with her hair pulled back came through a red door and smiled. "He needs clothes and shoes."

"Fair enough." She looked Sam over, pulled a measuring tape out of her pocket and held it up to him in various places. "Give me a minute." 

She disappeared back through the red door and when she returned, she had a small pile of cloth and a pair of shoes. "These should fit." She handed them to Sam and Doug headed for the door.

He led Sam to the room of his dorm. "You have ten minutes to get dressed. Wait for me at the white door. I will come and get you and explain the rules."

 

The rules were pretty simple. It wasn't much different than working on campus, except that he saw multiple clients in the same room. Doug took him from the garage, into the house, through the kitchen and downstairs. There was a blue door that opened into a gray room with no windows. There was a bed with restraints built in, a padded bench he knew was built for bending him over so that two men could use him at once, and on the wall there was an array of toys, from floggers to dildos.

Sam licked his lips and stepped into the room. 

"Remove your clothes." Doug said, standing in the door.

Sam stripped and handed everything to Doug, then looked up expectantly. "Wait here. I'm sure your first guest will be along shortly."

Doug left, the door shutting behind him. On this side, the door was white. So he was left waiting. He circled the room, inspecting the implements on the wall. It wasn't as extensive a collection as he'd seen. The red rooms on campus were filled with…things Sam hoped would never be used on him. It wasn't that he didn't like the pain that came with his job, in fact, certain amounts of pain aroused him. Which is why the Dean gave him so many Gray jobs anyway, or so he'd been told. And these tools were the kind Sam liked, no canes or whips that would draw blood. No blades to cut him open.

In fact, as his fingers trailed over a leather paddle, his cock hardened and he imagined it coming down on his ass while he stroked his cock slowly. Not enough to come. He was better trained than that. 

He only came when the client demanded it. 

The door behind him opened and he turned to find a vaguely familiar face, someone he maybe serviced before. "Hello, slave."

"Sir." Sam bowed his head and went to his knees. 

"Such a good boy. I am so glad my father agreed to request you. He'll be along later, but I thought I'd come first, inspect you before our guests arrive."

Sam bowed his head as the man approached. Fingers threaded through his hair, tugging his face up. "Suck me, Boy, and make it good."

He lifted his hands, easing open the man's pants and stroking his cock as he pulled it out. It hardened fast, and Sam licked at the tip while his hand worked the shaft, making the tip all wet before he moved his hand and took the cock into his mouth.

The fingers tightened in his hair as he bobbed up and down the length, pulling as he hissed when Sam sucked hard on just the head. He took the full length, the head in his throat gagging him and held it as long as he could before pulling off to catch his breath.

"Oh, that's it Boy, I like that."

Sam did it again, panting when he'd pulled off, licking and sucking at the tip to give himself time to catch his breath. It wasn't long before the man was thrusting his hips forward, his hand holding Sam in place while he fucked into Sam's mouth.

When he came, he smeared it over Sam's face. "By the time the night is over, I hope I find you covered in come and worn out…like the whore you are."

He tucked himself back in and left the room.

Sam got up from his knees and looked for something to clean up with, but there wasn't anything. He wiped the come from his face with his hands and paced the room. 

He didn't have to wait long, and the next client was an older man with graying hair and a deceptively gentle smile. His hands were far from gentle though as he bent Sam over his knee and paddled Sam's ass until the skin was red and hot. The fucking that followed was a little easier, and when it was done, Sam was hard and wanting, cradling his cock in one hand as he was once again left alone.

They came faster as the night went on, one after the other. Mostly men, but a few women who tied him on his back and shoved big dildos inside him before riding him to orgasm. There were spanking and paddlings, blow jobs and fuckings, one man used a heavy flogger over Sam's ass and thighs.

By the time the door opened and Doug was there, Sam wasn't sure which way was up, his whole body ached, fire covered his skin, come dripped from his ass, coated his face…it was even in his hair. 

Doug chuckled and escorted him from the room and into another with a shower and his clothes. "Clean up and get dressed. You've got twenty minutes."

Sam climbed into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the dried come and sweat from his body. He closed his eyes and leaned against the tile until he realized he was going to fall asleep. Shaking his head, Sam rinsed off and stepped out, drying off quickly and dressing. 

Doug led him back to the van they came in and back to his dorm once back to campus. He waited for Sam to undress and took the clothes with him, leaving Sam to sleep.

As jobs went, it wasn't bad. He'd gotten to come three times and there was no need to visit the doctor again. Sam laid on his cot and was asleep in moments.

 

 

“I hear you’re working off campus again.”

Sam looked up, grinning at Jess. “Yeah, some party in San Francisco. Me and Hal.”

“Lucky you.” She leaned against the bunk while he put shoes on. They always felt odd on his feet, but he’d only be wearing them until they were inside the party.

He wasn’t sure about the lucky part. He preferred to work in a familiar environment, going off campus made him feel insecure somehow. “You off now?”

She nodded, grabbing the towel off her bunk. “Headed for a nice long bath.”

“That sounds good. Enjoy it.”

He stood, fully dressed for the first time in longer than he could remember, and went to wait by the white door. It had been a while since he'd been requested for one of these jobs. Hal joined him a few minutes later. They didn't have to wait long before Doug opened the door and beckoned them through.

They were put in the back of a van, with no windows and dark gray walls and seats. As the van started moving, Doug cleared his throat. "Since this is Hal's first off campus job, I'm going to go over the rules and what to expect. You will be taken inside, and given a room. The door to that room will be locked and only those people your host has chosen to give a key to the door will have access."

Sam had been through this a few times. The host of these parties was usually some Stanford elite and the guests were often high society types, politicians, even celebrities sometimes. At least it was better than a red room party. The last one of those he had endured had put him in medical for two weeks. These were almost always green parties, sometimes gray. 

"You will be entertaining couples as well as individuals. Any questions?"

Sam sat back and closed his eyes. It was easier to prepare himself if he didn't try to think about it too much. He didn't open his eyes until the van came to a stop, and even then he waited until he felt Doug stand first.

Sam could feel Hal fidgeting as they were lead through the kitchen. "Easy." Sam murmured. "It's easy. Most of these people just want something different."

Bored wives and men who got off on the power of buying someone like them were the usual customers, and at one of these parties that might include men curious about being with a man, or those who only ever cheated on their wives with men, all people who the host of the party liked well enough to gift them with the key to the room.

As they passed the stairs, Sam spotted the holiday decorations twining down the banister. It must be Christmas already. It was difficult to track the passing of time in the dorm. There were no windows, no clocks or calendars. 

His first off campus job had been a Christmas party too. Idly he wondered how long ago that had been. He put it out of his mind as he got to the room though. He had to focus. The room was painted and decorated in shades of green, as he had expected. He began stripping as the door closed behind him. It should be an easy night.

 

Sam was still cleaning himself up from the last client when the door opened again. He turned, offering the new man a smile. "Give me just a minute, okay?" He dipped his washcloth back into the basin and squeezed it out.

"Sam?" 

He looked back again, squinting at the guy. "I'm sorry. Have I serviced you before?"

"Serviced—No, Sam, it's me. Your brother." 

From somewhere deep inside him he felt…something familiar…a name…"Dean?"

He nodded. "That's right, your brother Dean. Get dressed, we gotta go."

"Go?" Sam shook his head and went back to wiping the cooling sweat from his skin. "I am not allowed to leave the room."

"I'm not playing here. Get dressed." Dean huffed and took a step away from the door. "Look, you're supposed to do whatever the person that comes through that door tells you, right?"

"I am supposed to please you." Sam said, turning to face him now. "How can I please you?"

"By putting some freaking clothes on." Dean said.

"That's unusual." Sam scowled at him, but picked up the clothes he had left folded neatly on the chair in the corner.

"I'm just weird that way." Dean said, moving back to the door and peeking out into the hall. "Hurry up, would ya, we don't have all night."

Sam pulled the soft linen pants up and turned for the shirt. "We have as long as we need, there is no need to hurry." He was confused by this… Dean. It was clear he knew the man, but Sam had no memory of him, nothing he could put his finger on at least. There was a vague idea and the name. Nothing more.

"Shoes too." Dean said.

Sam sighed and pulled the shoes closer, putting his feet in and buckling them. He stood when he was done and crossed to where Dean was. "Okay, pay attention and stick close." Dean opened the door and eased out into the hallway. Sam stopped at the door. It wasn't blue. He wasn't supposed to go through it without a handler. 

It wasn't red either though, which meant he was allowed to pass through it…just not alone. 

"We don't have time for this Sam." Dean said, reaching through the door to grab Sam's arm and yank him into the hallway. 

"I'm supposed to stay—"

"Not anymore." Dean countered, dragging him down the hall. Dean glanced around a corner, then shoved Sam around it. Sam turned to look at him, eyes widening as a silver gun appeared out from under the tux jacket Dean was wearing.

"Move." Dean pushed him down the hall and to a back staircase. At the bottom of those stairs was a door. A red door. 

Sam stopped cold, shaking his head. He knew what punishment looked like for going through a red door. "No."

"Sam, so help me, you are going out that door." Dean opened it and shoved at Sam, but he dug his feet in. Somewhere behind him there was a commotion. "Now is not the time for your stubborn streak, Sam." Dean growled.

"I have to go back." Sam turned for the stairs, but Dean punched him. Hard. Sam staggered back, stumbling out the door and down the three stairs, sprawling on the concrete beside a black car.

Dean was beside him in seconds, pulling him toward the car. Sam struggled, but his head was ringing and he wasn't really sure which way was up. Before he'd recovered, he was shoved in the back seat and the doors were closed. Dean threw himself behind the wheel and they took off. "Keep your head down." Dean instructed as he wrenched the wheel and they pulled out onto the street. 

Sam glanced out the window and he could see Doug running at them from the house. Shots rang out and Sam ducked down. Dean just kept driving. 

Sam covered his head and closed his eyes. He was going to be in so much trouble. He would be punished severely. There would be beatings, and days without food. He shook his head. "Take me back. Take me back."

"Not a chance, Sammy. Not after what it took to find you. Trust me on this, you're better off with me."

"Please…." He sounded so small, even to himself. Dean wasn't listening anyway. Sam hugged his knees in to his chest. It wouldn't be the kind of beating you got in the red rooms. The kind that hurt and maybe made you need time to recover. It would be the kind that made you think you were going to die.

For all he knew, they would kill him. There were rumors in the dorms that the ones who disappeared, the ones who went away were actually killed. He was always good, followed the rules, did what he was told. The handlers had shown all of them what punishment looked like when he was first in the dorm. One of the older boys had broken the rules. 

When the beating was over, Sam couldn't even recognize a face under the bruises and swelling. Some of the marks on his body never went away. 

Sam was shaking when the car finally stopped and he looked up, startled at the sound of Dean's voice. "Okay, Sam. This is our stop for now."

"Where….are we?" Sam asked, looking around them. It was dark outside the car, and they didn't seem to be in the city anymore. 

"Someplace safe. More or less. I'm going to get us a room. I need you to stay in the car. You hear me?"

Sam nodded his understanding. He gaped at the world outside the windows. It had been a long time since he had seen anything but the dorms and the service rooms and the occasional party. So long in fact, he didn't remember the last time. He moved so that he could look up. The skies were black with dots of light. Stars. He remembered that…though he couldn't place the memory.

He startled when Dean came back, opening the door and settling behind the wheel again. He looked at Sam like something was strange, but didn't say anything. "Okay, we're around back." The engine came to life and they were moving again, behind the building. Dean parked the car and opened his door. "Let's get you inside." He opened the door to the back seat and Sam climbed out cautiously. Sam was still eyeing the sky, the stars and the clouds when Dean guided him toward the door. 

The room wasn't unlike one of the service rooms, though it was white like a medical room. Well, the walls were white. The floor was sort of beige and the beds were a bunch of colors. Sam wasn't sure what to do, so he stood just inside the door.

Dean came in behind him with a bag that he dropped on one of the beds. He pulled the gun out of his pants again and dropped it on the bed too. Sometime while Sam had been zoned out in the back seat of the car, Dean had taken off the bow tie and jacket of his tux.

He was already working on getting the shirt off too. 

That was something Sam understood. He reached out a hand for the buttons, but Dean slapped his hands away. "What the hell?"

Sam felt his face heat up. "I…I can help…"

Dean sighed, his eyes closed and head bowed. "I can do it myself just fine, Sam."

Sam nodded and stepped away. Okay. He would undress himself. Then he would be prepared…for whatever he would be expected to do.

He was faster than Dean, sitting naked on the bed when Dean turned to sit and take off his shoes. 

"Sam! What the hell?"

"I'm ready."

Dean shook his head. "Damn it. Put your clothes back on Sam."

"But I don't understand."

Dean exhaled. "I know you don't and I'm sorry. Just do what I'm telling you and put your clothes back on." Dean pulled a t-shirt out of his bag and pulled it on over his bare chest. "I need to call Dad."

He got up in his t-shirt and boxers and paced away, lifting his phone. He scratched at the back of his head as held the phone up. "It's me. Yeah I've got us holed up in a hotel outside of Sacramento." Dean paced, listening and nodding. "Yeah, we're okay. No he's…" Dean looked at him and gestured like Sam was supposed to be doing something.

Right. Clothes. Sam was supposed to be putting his clothes on. He lifted his shirt and pulled it on.

"I can get him to Bobby's." Dean nodded again. "Okay, fine. So far he's…obedient if nothing else." 

Sam lost track of the conversation as he pulled his pants back on, but Dean was almost done talking anyway. "Okay, we'll see you then."

Dean didn't really look at him, just went to the phone between the beds and the book it was sitting on. "You hungry?"

"It isn't time to eat." Sam replied. "We aren't in the right room to eat."

"I'm hungry." Dean said, looking through the book. "How does pizza sound?"

He seemed to find what he was looking for in the book and picked up the phone, dialing the numbers and grinning at Sam. "I need a pizza delivered to Hanney's Hideaway Hotel, room 9."

Sam turned away from Dean, arms crossed across his stomach. He was hungry, but this wasn't how it was supposed to work. Food was only served in the cafeteria. This wasn't the cafeteria. This wasn't his dorm. 

He was going to be in so much trouble. His heart was racing, and his hands shaking. This was worse than breaking the rules. 

"Sam?"

A hand on his shoulder turned him. "Hey, are you crying?"

Sam lifted a shaking hand to wipe his face, surprised a little to find that he was indeed crying. "I'm going to be in trouble. I need to go back."

Dean shook his head and drew him back to the bed. "You're not going back, Sam. You're not in trouble."

"Broke the rules. Punishment is bad for breaking the rules."

"You didn't break any rules, Sam. I did." Dean countered, sitting next to Sam on the bed. "I got you out. You’re safe now."

"Safe?" Sam wasn't sure what he was safe from. "I wasn't safe before?"

Dean closed his eyes, but not before Sam could see the hurt in them. "No, Sam, you weren't safe. You were being used."

"I was of service." Sam said. "I helped people."

Dean snorted and stood. "No, you were a whore."

The word felt like a slap to the face. "Worse than that, you were a slave. They kidnapped you and broke you and programmed you to be a fucking sex slave."

Sam shook his head. That wasn't right. He was there because he was supposed to be there, because he chose to be there. That's what they told him. "No, I…I was…I went there…"

Dean nodded. "You did go there. You were told you had a scholarship, I took you to the bus station myself. You've been gone almost three years."

"Gone from where?" Sam asked, blinking up at him. None of this made any sense.

"From us, from me and Dad."

Sam shook his head. "I don't know you."

"Yes, you do. You just don't remember."

Sam could feel himself frowning. 

"How did you know my name?" Dean asked, coming back to sit beside him. "Back there, when I came into the room. You remembered my name."

"Dean." Sam said it again, tasting the way it felt familiar. "I don't know." He shook his head.

"It's okay. We're going to help you get it back."

There was a knock on the door and Dean went to answer it, grabbing his wallet off the other bed. When he came back he had a box. The smell was familiar, and Sam's stomach rumbled. 

"First, we're going to eat. And then we're going to get some sleep. Tomorrow we're going to meet up with Dad and see what we need to do to help you."

 

There was something very familiar about the place where they stopped the next night. A house surrounded by a junkyard of sorts, cars and parts and junk in a maze of some design that seemed like Sam knew it.

The man who lived here hadn't wanted Sam to take off his clothes either, seemed flustered by the very thought of it. 

He was outside, on the steps into the house, looking up at the night sky, wondering when he'd last been allowed outside. Dean had told him on the long drive about how they'd searched for him once they realized something was wrong. How it had taken them a long time to even start to find the trail to where Sam was being held.

Sam wasn't entirely sure he believed Dean. Stanford was where he belonged, where he'd tried so hard to get for so long, and he was good at what he did there. But Dean said that Sam wasn't really at Stanford. He was locked up inside some building on the campus, used and abused by the rich staff and alumni.

Brainwashed. That's what Dean told him. 

Sam hugged himself and tried to think past the first memory he had at Stanford. There was a blur of fear and anger, with no real understanding of what caused it, and before that was sadness, relief…more anger. But none of it had any context. It was starting to make his head hurt.

He looked up as a dog somewhere barked and dust rose up off the drive in from the road. A truck came to a stop in a cloud of dust and Sam stood, uncertain, ready to run for the house, and the relative safety of the only person he sort of trusted.

A dark head appeared out of the cloud, followed by a big man and Sam couldn't move. The face, the set of his shoulders, the way he moved…he'd seen this man before, knew him…images flashed in his head, things from his dreams that had never made sense on waking. A big hand holding his, a voice that was gruff and yet warm, yelling…telling him not to come back.

"Sam?"

Dad. Never wanted Sam to go to Stanford. Wanted Sam to stay and….it slipped away as the big man came closer and Sam shook his head, darting away from big hands and ducking into the house, running straight into Dean.

"Dad." Sam said, as if that would explain it all. Maybe it did, because Dean let him go and Sam left him to hide in the living room. He could hear their voices, Dad's low and rumbling under Dean's and Bobby's when he joined in.

"I got the information I could." Dean was saying. "They use a form of brainwashing based on color. The color of the doors tells him whether or not he's allowed to go through them, the color of the walls tells him what he's expected to do. It's pretty thorough, even intensity of color feeds him information."

"What about memory, you said he didn't know you." That was Dad.

Dean sighed and Sam could hear him pacing. "He does and he doesn't. He recalled my name all on his own. But nothing since then. Until you showed up."

"So, have we figured out a game plan?"

"I have a friend I can call." Bobby said. "Specializes in deprogramming kids from cults."

"This wasn't a cult, Bobby." Dean responded, his pacing bringing him close to the archway. Sam felt his eyes and looked up. "We don't know how they did this."

"Human brain, there's only so many ways to do what's been done to Sam."

"Call." That was Dad again. "It's worth trying." He came to stand beside Dean, and Sam felt like he was on display. He turned away, but turned back almost instantly. It was wrong to turn his back. "Sam, do you know who I am?"

Sam licked his lips and nodded. "Dad." He cleared his throat. "My father."

"That's right." There was a soft smile that felt genuine to Sam. It made him feel a little braver. "You know we want to help you, right?"

Sam nodded again. "I'm…confused. And I'm scared. But Dean promised me it would get better." He looked to Dean who was still looking at their father. "You…you told me not to come back."

His father's face clouded over and Sam shrank bank into the corner.

"I did. I was angry." He took a step closer and Sam looked for a place to hide, but there wasn't one. "I didn't mean it."

"It felt like you did." Sam countered, the memory spilling into his head…voices raised, emotion hot, a door slammed.

"If I had known, Sam…if I had known what you were headed for, I would have found a way to make you stay."

"I wanted to go to school." Sam knew that for certain. "I wanted…" It slipped away and he nearly growled in frustration.

"I know you did." His father was closer now and Sam looked up at him, feeling small…like he was still a child. "I know what you wanted, Sam. I was just scared for you. I wanted to keep you safe. With us."

"I didn't feel safe…" Sam closed his eyes against tears he didn't understand. "I wanted to feel safe…and I thought…I was…there…at Stanford."

"I know." His father's voice rumbled through his as he was drawn into an embrace. A part of him knew this feeling, this embrace…it was warm and he wanted to crawl into those arms and hide. All too soon, his father let him go. "And no matter what it takes, we're going to get you through this."


End file.
